Sway Creative Health

On the surface, this video is simply me singing Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.
What you don’t see is the therapeutic decision-making happening in every moment.

The participant in the room, J, lives with dementia. Before dementia, she was a professional singer, and this song has become one of the ways she expresses the grief of everything she has lost.

When caregivers first heard the song, their response was understandable:
“Isn’t that song too sad?”
It’s a question I hear often.

In music therapy, we don’t use music to make people sad. We use it to help emotions that already exist find a safe place to be expressed.

J listens first while I sing live.
That first stage matters.
Listening creates a gentle emotional container. It allows me to assess her breathing, facial expression, body language, level of arousal and emotional regulation before inviting her to participate. If the music is becoming overwhelming, I can adjust the tempo, dynamics, or change direction entirely.

Only if J chooses do we sing together.
The invitation is always hers to accept.

Research consistently shows that familiar, personally meaningful music can support autobiographical memory, emotional expression and regulation in people living with dementia when offered within a safe therapeutic relationship.

J now carries the printed lyrics to this song in her handbag wherever she goes.
Not because she’s holding onto sadness.
Because she’s holding onto a part of herself.
Sometimes healing isn’t about making difficult emotions disappear.
Sometimes it’s about creating a relationship where they can be safely witnessed.
That’s what this music is doing.

Healing isn't becoming someone new.
Maybe healing begins when more of who we are is invited into collaboration.
As a music therapist, this feels almost intuitive.
For years I've watched people become more themselves through music, art and creative experiences.
Not because creativity "fixes" people.
But because creativity creates invitations.
Invitations to explore.
To express.
To rest.
To listen.
To respond.
To contribute.
To belong.
Since my own AuDHD diagnosis, I've realised my recovery has felt remarkably similar.
Not learning to become someone else.
Not learning to mask more effectively.
But gradually creating a life where more of who I already am is welcome.
That has completely changed how I think about health.
I'm becoming increasingly curious about whether our role in healthcare is less about changing people...
..and more about creating the conditions where people feel invited to bring more of themselves into the room.
Because perhaps integration doesn't happen through fixing.
Perhaps it happens through collaboration.
This isn't a conclusion.
It's a question I'm exploring.
What would change if healthcare began with invitation instead of expectation?

I'd love to hear your thoughts

What you hear:
Two creative arts therapists singing Moon River across the table.

What you don't hear:
One of us answering emails.
The other creating song lists.
We're planning transitions between songs.
Talking about who this music might resonate with.
Thinking about the stories it might awaken.
Wondering how we'll create a space where people feel safe to sing, remember, laugh, connect... or simply listen.

This is the work that happens long before we walk into a room.
The music you hear in a session is only the tip of the iceberg.

Behind every song is clinical knowledge, preparation, collaboration and intention. We don't just choose songs people know—we choose songs that help people reconnect with themselves, with one another, and with the moments that have shaped their lives.

This week we're preparing for Golden Threads—our music and storytelling program that celebrates healthy ageing through music, memory, creativity and connection.
Because healthy ageing isn't just about living longer.
It's about continuing to experience joy, purpose, belonging and opportunities to share your story.

If you're an aged care provider, Home Care Package provider, neighbourhood centre, council, community organisation or health service looking to create meaningful, evidence-informed creative health programs for older adults, we'd love to start a conversation.
🎵 Sway Creative Health
Supporting healthy ageing through music, creativity and connection.

G wrote this song entirely himself.
He programmed the drums in Ableton, wrote the lyrics, created the melody, and produced his very first original composition. My role was simply to support the process by playing the keyboard part he imagined.

The lyrics begin:
"Sometimes I wanna hide away... but everybody makes me stay...
Sometimes I wanna hide away from this awful day..."

After a full day at school, G used songwriting to process feelings that can be difficult to put into words—anger, exhaustion, overwhelm, and the relentless experience of needing to meet everyone else's expectations.

There was no prompting to "talk about his feelings."
Instead, music became the language.

What strikes me most isn't the sadness in the lyrics—it's the agency behind them. G chose every musical decision. He listened back critically, made changes, recorded takes, and proudly shared the finished song with his parents.
This is why creative therapies matter.
Sometimes children don't need us to tell them how they're feeling.
They need a safe space, the right tools, and someone willing to listen to what emerges.
Today, G didn't just write a song.
He told his story.
💛🎵

What if capacity isn't something we build? What if it's something that emerges?

For a long time, I've worked within systems that talk about capacity building—and I absolutely believe in helping people develop skills, confidence and independence.

But lately, I've found myself asking a different question.
What conditions allow capacity to emerge?

As a Registered Music Therapist and an AuDHD woman, I've seen time and time again that people don't thrive because someone taught them a skill alone. They thrive when they feel safe enough to be themselves.

When they experience belonging.
When relationships are built on trust.
When their nervous system no longer has to stay in survival mode.
When creativity gives them permission to explore, express themselves and participate in ways that feel authentic.
This isn't about replacing capacity building.
It's about broadening the conversation.

Because perhaps capacity isn't the first thing we should be measuring.
Perhaps we should first be asking:
Does this person feel safe?
Do they feel like they belong?

These are the conversations I'm exploring through Creative Health—a philosophy grounded in the belief that health is about the whole person, and that relationship, creativity and belonging are fundamental to helping people thrive.

I'd genuinely love to hear your thoughts.
What do you think creates the conditions for people to reach their potential?

Communication doesn't always begin with speech. Sometimes, it begins with connection. 🚂🎵
Mason has STXBP1, a rare genetic condition that affects movement, communication and development.
Today's session began with Mason independently requesting "train" on his AAC device.
From there, we built a musical conversation.
As I improvised on guitar, Mason used his AAC to tell me whether the train should go up ⛰️ or down ⬇️.
"Up" became a slow, climbing melody.
"Down" became a fast, exciting descent.
Together, we weren't just making music.
We were taking turns, making choices, sharing attention, and creating something that belonged to both of us.
This is what AAC can look like in music therapy.
It's not about pressing buttons.
It's about giving someone the opportunity to express ideas, influence another person, and experience the joy of being understood.
✨ Every choice Mason made shaped the music.
That's communication.
🌱 NDIS outcomes in action:
• Improved Communication through functional AAC use
• Improved Daily Living through cognitive and motor planning
• Increased Social Interaction through reciprocal engagement and shared music-making
Because every person deserves to have their voice heard—even when it doesn't sound like ours.

What if we've been thinking about health too narrowly?
For much of my career, I thought I was building a music therapy practice.
Looking back, I realise I've been building something much bigger.
A philosophy grounded in the belief that health is about the whole person. That we don't experience life in separate parts—we think, feel, move, create, connect and participate through our whole selves.
To me, music, art, creativity and meaningful relationships aren't optional extras. They're fundamental to who we are and how we experience health, identity, belonging and wellbeing.
This is the first conversation in a new series exploring Creative Health—the philosophy that now sits at the heart of everything we do at Sway.
I'd love to know...
When you think about health, what comes to mind?
👇 Join the conversation.